Inside the Great Hall, the air was frozen.
Viserys's gaze shifted back and forth between his eldest daughter, who was kneeling and pleading, and his second son, standing defiant in the center.
His lips trembled, and the words he uttered were weak and confused.
"Rhaenyra... I have already named you... Why do you still want me to personally..."
"But the world has never truly been convinced, Father!" Rhaenyra's voice rose sharply, cutting him off.
"Now, the entire Kingdom whispers in the shadows, tainting my sons' bloodline with the most vicious rumors! And now that Jace has lost an eye, those hyenas will only howl more brazenly. How can a one-eyed man rule the Seven Kingdoms?"
She crawled forward on her knees, her eyes burning with desperation.
"Father, I want you to do it now! Give Jacaerys a guarantee that no one dares to question! He is the undisputed heir. His place in the line of succession must be above Aegon and Aemond!"
"Your Grace!" Otto Hightower finally stepped forward, his voice tight with urgency.
He attempted to salvage a situation that was spiraling toward disaster.
"We all feel the pain of Prince Jacaerys's injury, but the Kingdom's line of succession affects the entire realm. How can it be decided in haste, driven by grief and anger? Moreover, whether Prince Aemond is truly at fault has not yet been determined through a just judgment!"
"Judgment? Investigation?" Prince Daemon sneered.
"My dear Hand, how do you intend to be just? Do you wish to torture our children? Or do you plan to drag this out for months, hoping to make a mountain into a molehill?"
"Daemon!" Viserys let out a weak rebuke.
"My words are perfectly clear, brother," Daemon said, refusing to yield an inch.
"Tonight, your eldest grandson, a future King, has been blinded. Your daughter, your chosen heir, is kneeling here, using her son's blood and tears to beg you for a certain future. And you..."
He drew out the words cruelly.
"Are you still... indecisive?"
"I... have not..." Viserys's words were cut off by a fit of heart-wrenching coughing. He hunched over, clutching his chest.
Aemond watched coldly from the side.
His father's frailty and avoidance. His sister is turning an eye into a bargaining chip.
Grandfather Otto's calculations.
Daemon's blatant fanning of the flames. His mother's despair.
His gaze swept across every face in the hall: greed, fear, hypocrisy, anger, and indifferent apathy.
'I can play that game too."
Finally, he laughed.
It was a low, chilling sound that cut through the noise like a knife.
The arguments and weeping stopped abruptly.
Everyone turned to look at the silver-haired youth.
"So," Aemond began, his voice terrifyingly calm.
"Is this the price you want?"
He suddenly turned his gaze to Lucerys. The boy had long since turned pale.
"And you! Lucerys Velaryon! You spineless little thief!" Aemond's voice sharpened.
"It was your hand holding the dagger. You let that thing sink into your own brother's eye! Now, do you not even dare to straighten your spine and admit what you have done? You dare to do it, but not to own it?"
Lucerys felt the words like a physical blow. His body, already trembling with guilt, swayed.
He stumbled back, unable to meet Aemond's burning violet eyes.
"Aemond!" Princess Rhaenyra shouted.
"I have been merciful enough! I have not sought to hold you accountable!"
"Merciful? Sister?"
Aemond felt as if he had heard the most absurd joke in the world.
The fire in his eyes surged, threatening to burn away his reason.
"You use a baseless murder charge to accuse me? But, sister, the way you stand there so high and mighty, trying to offer me charity, truly makes me sick..."
Aemond took a step forward.
"I do have a responsibility." He pointed at the trembling Lucerys.
"But does he have no responsibility at all?"
The Blacks fell silent.
The aggressive Aemond suddenly lowered his voice.
"An eye... in exchange for the future of the entire Kingdom?"
He paused, looking around at everyone.
"It is a good bargain."
Before his voice had even faded, Aemond lunged.
He moved like a leopard, not toward his sister, but toward the nearest Kingsguard.
Clang!
Metal ground against metal.
A cold light flashed, and the Kingsguard's dagger was suddenly in Aemond's hand.
It happened in the space of a breath.
No one had time to cry out; they could only stare wide-eyed at the madness unfolding.
"Did you not all repeatedly demand that I take responsibility?!" Aemond roared, his voice distorted by rage.
Without hesitation, he reversed the grip and pressed the cold, sharp blade hard against his own left eye socket.
"I shall do as you wish! I will bear it! An eye for an eye! Blood for blood!"
"Aemond! No! My child!!!" Queen Alicent erupted in a piercing scream.
Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Corlys, the color drained from their faces.
They had expected resistance, arguments, perhaps tears.
But never this tragic, reckless, self-destructive counterattack.
King Viserys lurched up from the throne, struck by invisible lightning, only to slump back down powerlessly.
His throat produced only wet gasps.
Just as the tip of the blade began to bite into the skin,
"Stop! Aemond! I beg you... I beg of you..."
Queen Alicent fell to her knees on the cold stone, her heart breaking as she cried out.
His mother's blood-curdling wail struck hard into Aemond's heart. His wrist faltered.
In that instant,
The Kingsguard pounced.
Three white cloaks lunged from multiple directions, pinning Aemond's arms and shoulders.
They wrenched the dagger from his grip; it clattered across the stone floor, far out of reach.
They slammed him ruthlessly to the ground.
"Whew..."
The disarmed Kingsguard wiped cold sweat from his brow.
If the Prince had mutilated himself or died with his dagger, his own head would have rolled.
"Mmgh!"
Aemond was pinned hard, his face pressed against the cold floor.
A strip of white cloak was shoved into his mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue.
He let out the muffled, angry whimpers of a trapped beast.
But his violet eyes still glared fixedly toward the throne, at his biased father.
The fire within them had not faded in the slightest.
Viserys looked at his second son, subdued on the ground yet still struggling.
He felt only exhaustion and a headache.
The trouble brought by this son was even more intense than the chaos sown by Daemon.
"Gag... gag him tightly!" the King ordered with a frustrated wave of his hand, speaking with defeat.
The linen was stuffed deeper. Aemond was left with nothing but muffled roars and indignation.
Queen Alicent slumped on the floor, weeping as she watched her son being treated like a criminal.
But relief washed over her; at least the worst had not happened.
An awkward, suffocating silence enveloped the entire hall.
Things had reached a dead end.
The eye, the accusations, the inheritance, the madness... it was a tangled mess that could not be unraveled.
It seemed impossible to bring this night to a close.
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